Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
'Tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue nor sufficiency… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“My particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. Julius Caesar (2.1.248-251)” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
